Leaving

**Vanya

I let go of the handle. The kitchen knife slipped from my fingers, splashing into the murky, grease-filled dishwater with a dull thud.

Only then did Vance release his crushing grip on my wrist. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair, his jaw clenched tight.

"Honestly, Thorne," he spat, his voice echoing over the running faucet. "I didn't take you for a coward. Just like your father. Stabbing my father in the back after all those years of loyal service. Stabbing him in the back!"

I took a slow step backward, keeping my mouth shut. This was a story I knew by heart, carved into my skin and soul, but Vance always found a reason to drag it back into the light.

"Your father let Gareth slither onto our packlands with an army that decimated us!" Vance closed the distance between us, his chest practically brushing my uniform. "Do you even remember how many lives we lost beating him back?"

I turned my head. I stared at the peeling paint on the kitchen wall, refusing to meet his burning gaze.

"And now you expect pity?" Vance shook his head, a bitter scoff escaping his lips. "You want me to stand here and watch you kill yourself? You are unbelievable. Weren't we friends once, Vanya? How could you do this? Are you so determined to make me suffer the way your father made this pack suffer? Don't you think he did enough damage already?"

Even now, if I closed my eyes, the ghosts of that night clawed at my mind. The blood-red moon hanging low in a pitch-black sky. The guttural screams tearing through the trees. The sickening scent of copper. Blood. So much blood.

Under that scarlet moon, I made a vow. I swore I would give everything I had to uncover the truth, to avenge the souls torn apart that night, and to bring peace to the families left drowning in grief. The real culprits had to pay. I was always on Vance's side in that regard.

But today... today was the first time I really looked into his eyes and doubted the narrative. My father was beaten back alongside Gareth's rogues. He lived among them now.

Papa, please. Were you really a traitor?

"F*ck." Vance spun away from me, pacing the narrow space between the sinks and the prep counter.

I stayed silent. I hoped my lack of response would wear him down. Alpha Vance was known for his cold, unyielding dominance. He rarely let his emotions slip. Seeing him this frantic, this unhinged, was jarring. I just wanted him to leave me alone.

"So, this is your answer." Vance let out a dark, mocking laugh, grinding his teeth. "You're going to stand there and play mute."

I slowly lifted my chin, forcing my voice to remain steady. "What do you expect me to say, Alpha? I will say whatever you want to hear."

His next words shattered my mask of indifference in an instant.

Vance stopped pacing. He pinned me with a heavy, suffocating stare. "I am exiling you after the rejection ceremony. I am done dealing with this. Whatever you do, wherever you go after the bond is severed, it makes no difference to me. Or to this pack."

My heart slammed against my ribs. Exile?

The word rang in my ears like a death sentence. That would ruin everything. I never even considered he would go that far. Children of traitors were supposed to serve as lowest-ranking warriors or omegas, dying on the front lines to repay their family's debts. Vance knew the laws. Banishment for a pack member born within these borders was unheard of.

"With all due respect, Alpha," I said, fighting to keep the panic out of my tone, "I prefer not to be exiled. It is my duty to protect the pack. I have no intention of abandoning my post."

Vance stepped into my space again. He towered over me, the sheer weight of his aura pressing down on my shoulders. Before I could blink, his hand shot out, his fingers gripping my chin. He forced my face up, making me look directly into his stormy eyes.

"You want to kill yourself in the pack conflicts."

It wasn't a question. It was an accusation. A conclusion he had already drawn and stamped as fact.

For years, I survived on a single thread of hope. I refused to believe the gentle man who raised me had betrayed the former Alpha. I needed to find the missing pieces. I needed to know why things happened the way they did. If I was thrown out of the packlands, I would lose every lead. I would never clear my father's name.

"I prefer not to be exiled," I repeated, my voice tight.

Vance's hands moved. He grabbed both of my wrists, jerking me forward until my chest collided with his. The heat of his body seared through my thin clothes. We were so close we breathed the same tense air.

"So this is your grand plan?" he growled, his grip tightening. "Kill yourself before the ceremony? Die on the battlefield, take a blade to the gut, or maybe throw yourself off a cliff? You want to destroy my wolf, is that it?"

"Pain?" I frowned, struggling to twist my wrists out of his iron hold.

"Don't you know?" he snarled, his face inches from mine. "As my mate, every single time you try to hurt yourself, it causes me physical pain!"

I blinked, the words catching me off guard.

His logic made zero sense. He was glaring at me like a spoiled child throwing a tantrum because a toy was taken away. If he hated me so much, why care about a phantom ache?

"I apologize for your discomfort," I said, deciding to end the argument right then and there. Whether his claim was true or just an excuse to yell at me didn't matter. "But it won't be a problem for much longer. I won't be a problem. The rejection ceremony is in two weeks. Our bond will be severed permanently. Then you will feel nothing for me, and I can... Alpha, I am not suicidal. Don't you want me gone from your life? Isn't that the whole point of rejecting me?"

"Gone from my life?" Vance repeated softly. The furious fire in his eyes shifted, darkening into something unreadable, something heavy and dangerous.

"Yes. Disappear," I said, my patience wearing thin. "You won't have to worry about me. Honestly, Alpha, if you are so concerned about my well-being, why reject me in the first place?"

I pulled one hand free and pointed directly at the third ragged scar crossing my cheek. The scar he gave me.

He stared at the jagged mark. He didn't say a single word. The silence stretching between us was answer enough.

"Exactly," I muttered, dropping my hand. "I am a traitor's daughter. I could never be your Luna. The pack will never forgive me for the blood on my father's hands. My fate is to bleed for this pack, and your fate is to lead it. That is the reality we live in."

Vance's chest heaved. I could see the muscles in his jaw ticking, a fresh tirade brewing in his throat. I tilted my head toward the hallway, pretending to catch a distant sound.

"My squad leader is calling. I need to go, Alpha." I took a step back, pulling my other wrist out of his loosened grip.

I didn't understand why he was acting like this. I didn't even understand my own reactions. Speaking to the Alpha with such defiance, throwing his logic back in his face—it felt like we were kids again, arguing in the dirt. Like I actually had the right to challenge him.

I even dared to lie straight to his face about the squad leader.

I turned my back on him. But just as my fingers wrapped around the cold metal of the kitchen door handle, Vance's voice cut through the heavy air.

"You made your decision, Vanya. And I will make mine."

"I need to go," I repeated. This time, I pushed through the swinging door and didn't look back.

***

I spotted Colette in the hallway just outside the kitchen, pressing a damp rag against the back of her head. Her eyes shot daggers at me as I walked past, but miraculously, she kept her mouth shut. I wondered how hard she hit the wall, but I wasn't about to stick around and ask.

Not that the rules allowed it anyway. A traitor's daughter never initiated conversation with a ranked pack member. Plus, any concern I used to hold for Colette died years ago.

I hurried through the dim corridors, making my way back to the lowest level of the warriors' dormitory. Most people just called it the outcasts' cave. It lived up to the name—damp, freezing, reeking of mildew, and neglected. The perfect dumping ground for the pack's unwanted garbage.

I pushed open the creaky wooden door to my tiny quarters. My roommate was already snoring on the opposite cot. Good. I missed my usual afternoon patrol by thirty minutes thanks to Vance's little interrogation. I knew the squad leader would dish out a brutal punishment whether I showed up late or skipped it entirely. Might as well get some rest.

I collapsed onto my lumpy mattress and closed my eyes. A wave of exhaustion washed over me, but my mind kept racing. At least I made my stance clear. No matter what punishment the pack threw at me, getting away from Vance was the only priority. I had vital tasks to finish here. My secret investigation into my father's supposed treason required me to stay inside the territory. Exile would ruin everything.

Vance's sudden, hovering obsession only made things harder. But he wouldn't come looking for me again. He felt the mate bond flare in the kitchen. He knew the danger of getting too close, of letting the bond mess with his head. He would keep his distance until the ceremony. I was sure of it.

The only question was whether my words actually convinced him to drop the exile threat.

With that sickening anxiety gnawing at my stomach, I pulled the thin blanket over my shoulders.

Sleep on it. My father always told me that when a problem felt too big to solve, I should sleep on it. Let the morning bring clarity.

He also told me to sleep on it before starting a massive argument. I definitely failed that lesson today.

But at least the worst was over. Kaelen Vance was finally out of my daily life.

***

I had no idea what time it was. The heavy wooden door to the room suddenly slammed open, the crash echoing like a gunshot.

My roommate and I both jolted upright, ripping our blankets aside.

Kaelen Vance stood filling the doorway. The hallway light cast his face in harsh shadows, his expression carved from stone.

Panic spiked in my chest. What was he doing here?

"Vanya Thorne. Get out of bed and come with me," a voice barked.

I squinted, realizing Vance's head butler stood just behind his shoulder, glaring at me with open disgust.

I swallowed the lump of dread in my throat. I gave a quick, obedient nod, sliding off the squeaky cot and shoving my bare feet into my cold boots.

I walked over to the doorway, keeping my head bowed respectfully. "What is your will, Alpha?"

Vance stared down at me. He said nothing.

The butler stepped forward, sneering. "Stay out of the bed. You are leaving."

My brow furrowed. The midnight air felt suddenly freezing. "Alpha, the rejection ceremony is next week..."

"Move," the butler snapped, cutting me off.

My heart dropped into my stomach. No. He couldn't be doing this now. Not tonight.

I kept my eyes glued to the scuffed floorboards as I walked over to the small, rusted dresser in the corner. I pulled out the bottom drawer and dumped my meager belongings onto the mattress. A few worn shirts, a spare pair of pants, a hairbrush.

As I started shoving the items into a frayed canvas duffel bag, I noticed two omegas standing in the hall behind the butler. They were watching me pack, their faces twisted in revulsion, whispering to each other.

A sudden, overwhelming sense of injustice burned in my veins. My hands trembled. I looked up, my gaze darting toward the doorway.

My eyes crashed into Vance's.

He was watching my every move. There was a dark, intense fire burning in his irises. A storm of conflicting emotions that sent a weird, twisting jolt straight to my core. It was a feeling I desperately wanted to ignore.

I broke the eye contact and reached for the zipper of my duffel bag, resigning myself to the midnight banishment. I needed to figure out a way to sneak back into the territory once they threw me past the border.

But before my fingers could grasp the zipper, a large, warm hand clamped down on my arm.

The grip was firm, unyielding.

I froze. I slowly turned my head.

Kaelen Vance stood right beside me. He didn't let go of my arm. His jaw was set, and he locked me in place with an ice-cold, piercing stare that paralyzed the breath in my lungs.